Saying Goodbye
by Janers
Summary: Jim and Pam's last interaction before Jim's transfer to Stamford. Takes place between Casino Night and Gay Witch Hunt.


Write a story using this Jack Kerouac haiku as prompt:

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Jim took a final glance at his desk, trying to think if there could be anything he was forgetting. It was hard to believe that he wouldn't come back and sit in this desk again tomorrow. He'd never have to see Michael or Dwight again, he thought with relief. Maybe he wouldn't hate working at Stamford quite as much as he hated working at Scranton. Then again maybe it would be worse.

No, he told himself. Nothing could be worse than staying here and watching Pam every day. Even hearing her answer the phone was too much for him. Every little thing she did or said just reminded him that she wasn't his. Of course, that didn't mean he wasn't watching or listening, absorbing every detail with the same longing over and over again.

Pam pulled her coat off its hook behind her desk. It was a simple dark grey pea coat with oversized buttons. Jim would never admit that he knew it was a new coat, only about a month old. But then, after watching the same person get ready to leave and go home to someone else every night for as long as he had, even a guy as oblivious as him noticed such things.

He noticed other things too. She was meticulous in the way she dressed to leave the office, a private little ritual that he missed in the summertime, when protection from the elements was unnecessary. Her brow furrowed gently as her right hand fluttered over the buttons, always buttoning the top two but leaving the bottom one undone. She tugged her hair out from under the collar and twisted it over her left shoulder, the curls slowly unfurling and coming back to fan out across her back after she released them. She never left the belt of her coat dangling from its belt loops, but knotted it tightly and cinched the heavy wool coat around her slim waist. And finally, she put on her scarf, one of the parade of scarves knitted for her by her mother. Sometimes they were striped, sometimes solid, sometimes more complicated patterns, but she always tied it in the same way, doubling it around her neck and then weaving one end under the other and tucking the ends into the collar of her coat.

She was ready to go now. Jim turned away to rustle through his box one last time so that when she looked up from dressing to grab her purse, she wouldn't notice him watching her every gesture, taking them in this one last time so that when he went home in Stamford he could replay them in his mind every night. He knew, though, that his favorite part of the day's end would not come tonight.

After she had dressed, double checked her desk for forgotten keys or memos; she would look up and shyly smile at him. She would tease him; ask him he planned to spend the night at his desk. And then they would walk to the parking lot together, laughing over the day's events and discussing their disparate evening plans.

But in the days since the casino night, his confession and their kiss, the rhythm of their seven-year routine was off. There was no smiling or talking or laughing, just a strained effort to avoid each other's glance, to be the first to run out the door and hear it click satisfyingly after them, a barrier that they could hide behind until the next day full of awkward exchanges and half-hearted attempts to maintain a semblance of normalcy.

Jim shook his head, trying to clear it, and then lifted his box again and strode determinedly toward the door.

"Jim, wait."

He stopped, trying to decide whether or not to turn and face her.

"I… um… you look like you've got your hands full. Let me get the door for you?" He felt rude standing with his back to her, and turned to see that her eyes were hopeful, eyebrows raised expectantly

"Sure, that would be great."

"It's so warm in here. Don't you think it's warm?" Her hands flew up to her neck, deftly undoing their previous meticulous work, and leaving her green and pink scarf to hang unevenly over her coat, leaving her throat bare, its winter pale skin a graceful contrast to her dark coat. "Sorry, I'm just trying to find my cell phone; I could have sworn I put it in my purse…" She looked around frantically, rifling through her purse again to triple check that she was wrong. "Oh… I guess I did."

There it was: that slow half-smile he had been missing all week. He couldn't help smiling too.

"Well done, Beesly," he cracked. Her smile expanded to match his as their eyes met. Quickly, she looked away and threw the purse over her shoulder on her way out from behind the reception desk. She walked carefully past him and turned the doorknob sharply, swung the door open and stood by as he carried the last remnants of his seven years in the office with him. They walked to the elevator in silence, Pam pushed the down button and they waited in silence, and when the elevator came they stepped inside in silence too.

"Jim?" Pam ventured timidly once the door closed.

"Yeah?"

"I'll miss you." Jim turned to face her and saw that she was already looking up at him, biting her bottom lip to hide its quivering.

"I'll miss you too, Pam."

Suddenly, unexpectedly, she tilted her head up and planted a kiss on his cheek. Jim's eyes widened in surprise, but as he turned to meet her mouth, the elevator bell rang, signaling their arrival on the first floor. Pam pulled away and wound her scarf tightly around her neck once more.

"Goodbye," she mumbled quickly as she shoved the front door open and hurried toward her car, leaving him alone in the lobby.


End file.
